The wonder of woodcock
Sales of game to eat are up by more than a third in the UK, but few Brits have yet to try woodcock. Paver Smith MD Dougal Paver sampled this magical bird in the name of research.
The French call her 'mordoree', the golden queen of the woodlands; against that, woodcock seems so much more prosaic.
Her coppery sheen is glimpsed only fleetingly as she breaks a shaft of weak woodland sunlight, glowing burnished gold before returning to the wood's safe embrace.
Ever the elusive one, woodcock break cover only when disturbed by beaters and their dogs, giving the sporting shooter the briefest of opportunities to bag one for the pot.
One such opportunity presented itself to me yesterday and I fluffed it, having forgotten to move the catch from safe to live on my shotgun trigger. Happily, Alistair on the next peg wasn't quite so dopey and was good enough to offer it to me for the pot.
Numerous of my colleagues have taken braces of partridge, duck and pheasant from me this winter but none is so easy to pluck as the woodcock. Its meat is dense and flavoursome, but not too gamey in the way of pheasant or wood pigeon. I baked mine wrapped in bacon and found the meat tender, juicy and easy to the palate.
I served it on toast with a side stew of onions, cherry tomatoes and red pepper cooked in butter and olive oil with garlic and a dash of tomato puree, white wine and lemon juice. Absolutely scrumptious.
Woodcock are wild birds that fly in from northern Europe during winter so they're hard (though not impossible) to find on the supermarket shelves. If you do come across them then they will have been shot and sold to a game dealer, who will have passed the bird up the chain to the supermarket or butcher.
Give one a try - it's well worth it.
COMMENTS
No comments added for this entry.
POST A COMMENT
